


The View From The Backseat

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dystopia, Exploration of sexuality, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Growing Pains, Identity Issues, Slow Burn, Stream of Consciousness, Zombies, implied eating disorder, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-05 12:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14618058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Musings around growing up through the eyes of a few teenage humans and a collapsing world.OrJan (makings of a super villain) and Lee (makings of an angsty cupcake) learn about themselves with the help of each other (plus many others), a puppy called Peanut and a global pandemic.





	1. Dog Day               Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work posted !! And like the second time I've shared any writing online eek ! I've got a borderlands fic & a batman au in the running but have a fair few chapters of this story to post in the meantime in the rare instance people enjoy it :3

imperfection -  
I like girls who  
rain pummels down on the tin roof of his uncle's garage, jabbing down into the metal. Boxers hit each other's faces with plastic feeling hands, ripped stomachs pulsating with adrenaline, girls in gloves and head shields, sweat on their bodies, Punching punching punching punching  
It's a slicing sound, cuts the damp air into layers  
He taps her leg, fingers like a clumsy tarantula. He's skinny with dark hair  
\----  
I like girls who dance. He says as they walk up the hill. It's a few hours earlier, somewhere near Hampstead.  
I like girls... She's nervous, she laughs. I like girls that's it. She's not being herself.  
...And boys? Or have i been wrong this whole time? He has such a wide smile and sharp canines. He's rotten as people go, doesn't feel like it should be love, he's too greasy and all his friends are always high. But maybe that's why he's friends with them, they are perpetually half there. He doesn't get high, he doesn't smoke or drink. He'll roll up someone else's cigarette but only smoke it in spite. You can imagine him smoking sitting on a wall, maybe he has... it just wouldn't be for enjoyment, he's not a smoker. He doesn't really have any hobbies or habits. He goes to drama club and is assistant director but he helps writes scripts too in his messy shorthand, he'll do lighting, he'll try doing make up if need be, everyone thinks he's a bit weird.  
I like boys too. She says, he's looking at her face she didn't think this would happen ever. Should she pretend she can't see him?  
In a zombie apocalypse he'd be awesome.  
"I think you'd be great in a zombie apocalypse." She says suddenly, real talk, her voice not deep nor high, wobbly because she's always always always nervous.  
"yeh?" He looks forward.  
Wrong thing to say, she doesn't quite panic. Why is she doing this? He's an odd friend, acquaintance. He didnt mind that she's weird, he likes it actually. When he said I like girls that dance he meant that he likes girls that move to music and their bodies sway. But saying that does he really? Isn't it usually a creepy thing? Desires? A worm pulls itself out of Autumn soil, wriggling in pink skin. Specks of dirt on its wrinkled exterior, it sniffs around. And then a cat reaches its little nose down to the worm, wondering what it is, the cat paws at the worm, unusually interested by it, perhaps there are no bluebottles or butterflies out today.  
"You think I'm brave?" He asks, he looks at her again but only while he utters the question.  
She shrugs. "I think you'd kill them well."  
"So murderous then, like."  
She grins at him and doesn't know why, she looks ugly. No but she doesn't. He didn't think that did he? He didn't think she looks ugly, no way. Is he conflicted? He shakes his head like he's batting away a fly or flicking his fringe to the side but he's not that kind of person. The street is small, steep. Rainy. Not yet raining though. It just has that rainy feel to it.  
She's wearing a dress but she wishes she were wearing sweatpants.  
She doesn't have big boobs she used to but then she stopped eating and they never came back. He wants to touch her arm or at least he wanted to.  
In this moment she notices his head flicking, wondering if he's ill or at least ok. She'd like to touch his arm, say hey it's ok. But he'd bat her away too. She's just a girl who makes bad art and doesn't wear make up.  
Writes stories in which she falls In love with a new man. Wraps herself up in strings, dances obscurely; reads the occasional book but she's too smart for books most of the time, pines over lifelong mental health problems that no one really sees, they used to.  
She's just another girl who isn't fat and isn't thin.  
"Yeah. Like you'd get them with machetes or something." She stares at the ground. She likes superheroes that aren't obvious, most of them these days because people have realised how multi faceted a person is and they want to convey that. She likes superheroes. She likes super villains.  
She is a super villain, she feels like an ingrown toenail surrounded by fiction and fractured realities.  
Or just a kid with big hair walking up a street with a white boy in a situation which should be exciting but isn't.  
"Do you smoke?" He asks.  
No she shakes her head. She wishes she did and gave into all those cravings.  
"Do you?" She looks at his face turned away, pointy ears, pointy teeth, he looks like he could be evil. he looks like a villain actually, one in a tv show that dies in the sixth series.  
She doesn't look like a villain, round features, almond shaped brown pools of eyes, not very photogenic, sumptuous lips, open face, nearly non existent eyebrows, just pale shadows, tiny eyelashes  
She could be a boy but  
Just isn't  
She examines him, is that stubble? Was that a poke in her lower abdomen? Because of stubble? What In god's name is spurring about stubble? Does it mean he's more of a man? Is she staring?  
He's pretty as boys go.  
Nose with a flick at the end, thick near black hair, pale skin, does it really mean anything that he's white and she's not? It doesn't to her. She pretends it does because race is big but in this situation it's a moot point, currently. Currently she's not blaming any discord between them on him being in the most privileged ethnic gender group.  
And her being somewhere down the line.  
I bet he cuts off slices of apples rather than cutting them into pieces or biting into them, I bet he puts cereal on top of milk, I bet he has a tiny dick. She thinks.  
She doesn't like thinking these things. She's thinking lots and lots of other things too, about him about this floor about brains about  
"Na. I don't smoke really. It doesn't feel great." He says. He pauses, he scratches the nape of his neck where the skin gets dry.  
She has that too.  
"I don't know what you'd be like in a zombie apocalypse." He begins, she likes the fact that he specified it being a zombie apocalypse, there are many types of judgement day, she's thought about it lots. She doesn't look as if she's listening but she is. "I hadn't thought about it if I'm honest." He grins to himself.  
She smiles.  
That's not ugliness. He thinks.  
"This way." He points them to the left.  
And then leaves fall, Autumn winds, autumn breeze, Blanketed sun, yellow and green echo around, oranges. Citrus groves devastated by a global plague, people burning everything in hope of killing it but their family and friends still get sick. It's the earth getting its own back.  
She's always thinking about the end and the beginning  
"Where are we going again?" She asks.  
"Ice cream." He was vague at the start and has carried on being vague.  
She rolls her eyes. He catches her in the corner of his conscience, he sort of wants to get in a fight with her just because. Or is that wanting sex? He can never tell. His pants get tighter just a little as she licks her lips.  
"What's your favourite ice cream flavour?" His eyebrows raise as the question travels thru the air.  
Can she see ?  
"o shit I don't know." Her voice makes him laugh, she laughs too, "that's exactly the kind of question I'm awful at answering." She pauses, relaxes a little, her stance becomes more boyish, her body more sensual. "What about you? Do you like ice cream? I'm guessing you do... I never used to."  
She's chattier than she lets on. He thinks.  
"I like ice cream. I eat a lot of it. And a lot of chocolate, it's why my teeth are bloody ruined." He swallows, they r playing more of a game now even though both of them are pretty uncool.  
She didn't notice any ruined teeth, she has to remind herself to not try to look at his teeth. Social etiquette doesn't come naturally, but she's very good at it nevertheless.  
"Strawberry? Chocolate? I like chocolate and toffee and cookies and cream."  
"I'm down with all of that." She hears herself saying that sentence and then thinks: do I really say that? Double crossing, criss cross arms (she has a lot of scars, madly faded but madly erratic darting deep set across her skin), bone meets bone.  
His hands are slim, he's sort of skinny and not skinny at the same time, not that tall or built, slightly sticky outy Adam's apple, but he doesn't look gawky though he should. He feels like making a joke, but they're all unraveling In his head. He's not a very witty person, smart and sharp but not witty. Sarcastic, spends class thinking about clever magicians that make you think, what they should say to introduce, how to make it sound thought through and intelligent and sarky.  
The other people milling around are just as disinteresting as these two, ignoring her hair, the selling point, the tree of colour sprouting from her scalp, spiralling spectrum, gravity defying.  
That's pretty interesting.  
Like some personal Galaxy.  
Did he ever want to go to space? As a child  
Not the getting in the spaceship no, not the adventure, he wanted the solitary confinement of discovering new planets on one man missions, the feeling of I might die but I only have me and this place only has me. He dreamt about walking desolate ground.  
So yeah he wanted to go to space  
"I liked the movie interstellar." He starts suddenly, cocking his head a tiny bit, "But I spose you're a zombie kind of girl, you seem a bit end of the world-y."  
She nods with a wide smile, "I guess I am... And interstellar! Yes I adore it. It's one of my favourite movies actually... But Why do I?.. Seem end of the world-y. I love sci fi."  
She's articulate but she's also awful at threading together sentences in conversation, it comes in waves.  
"I'm not sure ... Like you obviously said about the zombie thing so I guess I then linked it with you. And the end of the worlds you've thought of, you said about those before." He thinks, yeah, zombie girl, great name.  
He thinks, she could write tv shows if she wanted with her extensive imagination. Is that a hint of... Jealousy?  
"Oh yeh." She nods, "it is a thing of mine... I just find it interesting." She might start talking about God but senses this Raging atheist within him and doesn't fancy a disagreement. "Where's this ice cream place? I thought you said it was close." She does this smirk, he wants to wipe it off her face. Or equally keep it there forever, he rather that actually.  
The Place he's taking her for Ice cream comes into view around a corner.  
"Just there." He points his head toward it.  
She nods she wants him to stare at her face again  
The rain is relentless she loves it. The tin roof seems as if it should be dented by the hammering. Dark sky peels around their world, a mother peels carrots and potatoes her kids are running around the house while her husband is at the hospital with his mother, there's a crushing feeling at the top of her ribs, it's falling down as she's falling down the kids don't know. Shavings of carrot and potato fall to the floor with her. Is it pain? Loss? Why now? She's making casserole but really it's a bit late for dinner.  
The rain carries on and  
Carries on  
They are watching a film about aliens. Since she said she likes sci fi, he thinks.  
His hand is tapping on her leg it should be excused by him being a druggie or something but he isn't, he's just got his hand on her for no reason.  
She takes forever to decide what ice cream flavour to have but there's something cute about the way she Stammers so he doesn't mind too much. She eventually goes with raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake and caramel apple. He has cookies and cream and triple Chocolate. The heavens look as if they are about to open, crack like an egg onto the world below, spilling out gooey insides.  
"I wish I was in a movie." He says, sitting sideways on the chair, green eyes knowing. Or just thinking, pre occupied in a not very thoughtful way.  
"I wish I was in a video game." She replies, sucking gingerly at the ice cream, he narrows his eyes but at nothing in particular. "I'd like to be in a movie as well though." She carries on, brown eyes reflective. "Do you play video games?"  
"Not anymore." His ice cream is nearly finished, she looks longingly at it without realising. "What?" He asks.  
"Nothing." She grins, "wondering how your ice cream tastes. It looked good."  
He's sticks out his hand, holding the cone, "I'm afraid there isn't a bit I haven't licked."  
She leans forward, shrugging, letting go of anxieties about cooties. He wants to pull his hand away and see her head drop to the table or her sitting sillily, back stretched out, mouth open in mid air. Is that mean? His lips twitch, she tastes the ice cream.  
"It's good." She nods, returning to her own. "What do you do then?"  
"In my spare time?"  
Her Head moves up and down, hair bounces. "Yeah like, any time." Pale brown hand straightens then relaxes, floats around, flitting gesticulation.  
He shrugs, "I hang out with friends."  
"Oh yeah the stoners." She really just sits awkward but he imagines her popping a cherry into her mouth through red lined lips, sour n sassy. "Sorry.."  
He throws his head back, he has a sexy neck, she observes. "Yeah." He says as he brings his head back up, wide smile to the Clingy air. Eyes a little manic in their way. "Are they known as that?"  
"I don't know, I don't give the names or hear them really. But yeah, I'm pretty sure." She giggles, "like, they roll joints in the bathroom. And one of them, the one with blonde hair, he just passed out in class once."  
He splutters. "Haha... I think I heard that. Yeah that's Jake, he's an exception though."  
She raises her eyebrows.  
"I don't get high in my spare time if you're thinking that. I revise... Eat chocolate, do what people do..." He does this lazy look, in that moment he looks like a stoner. "I go to school, drama rehearsals, Jake's house or whoever else, listen to music, think."  
A drop splits on the ground next to their table, heavy drop.  
"I think too. I do that a lot." She bites her lip, he blinks. He doesn't know if she's making fun of him or not.  
"Careful." He says, he'll make fun of her back regardless, his smile is quiet now though. Her step dad makes that joke. She grins, her eyes crinkle.  
The rain quickens, the world goes into slow motion, people getting up, umbrellas inflating.  
Have You Got A Raincoat  
No  
Dyou Want To Uh Share My Jacket  
Um No Thanks  
We Should Head Back  
Yes,  
they're both a little thankful for the rain, saving them from awkwardness.  
a new sound fills the atmosphere, social theory, reasons, blank spaces, math homework, the smell of wet concrete, converse shoes, bright eyes,  
Would You Like To Watch A Movie  
Yeah That Sounds Cool  
refusals, incense, ignored text messages, old paint, old TVs, a tin roof and a cat with eighteen years on its sagging back.  
His fingertips get old  
Or do they?  
Maybe they're never getting old. His flattens his hand, Palm against her leg, her thighs are the only part of her that isn't small, she's barely five foot, with little hands.  
He stretches his neck back.  
The pattering pacing up and against the Windows doesn't end. Inside it's warm  
She closes her eyes for longer than a blink  
"I'm tired." She grins after a while, opening her eyes again.  
"Would you like to go home?"  
She shakes her head, "not till the film's finished."  
He takes his hand away he forgot that they don't know each other well. After a few hours still they're just acquaintances, but with some people it's easy to forget.  
"I wanted to stick and poke the word alien into my body somewhere." She starts.  
"Yeh?" He turns to her, looking amused. "I'll do it."  
She laughs, "really? I wasn't expecting that."  
"I mean you'll have to teach me how but yeah. I'll do it sure, depends where you want it." His grin is great.  
She thinks.  
"Oh nowhere crude or anything." She rubs her right eye, "like on my knee. Or like here..." She touches the top of her ribcage, just under the bra line.  
"I suppose that's almost crude." She blinks slowly, she acts drunk when she's tired. He says nothing. "Maybe another word? I don't know what though." She speaks lazily.  
"You're very short." He observes (plop plip plip plop plip plop)  
"Oh thanks." She stares at the tv screen. He wants to say no no it's a good thing I think, but that would be giving too much away, that wouldn't be winning the game.  
It's only eight pm but they seem to have stopped playing a game.  
"You've probably heard that before." He glances at her. (Water batters the ground, forceful again, he thinks very very briefly about her against the wall but it still feels like he lingers on it too long; the rain pushes against the walls, the rain seems to be at a togetherness with everything it touches, your skin the earth the endless pavement)  
Would she moan? His mind focuses back on the film, what is he doing? Jesus. Would she..? Shut up.  
She's probably the worst of the two when it comes to this. But she keeps it in her arms, there's not usually the fear that she's thinking too loudly, it's not a fear anymore noisy than all the others.  
They are both wet when they get back to the house, he's smiling and they're both out of breath from running. She doesn't look so good with wet hair but then, she doesn't look bad. You just don't imagine ever a pretty girl with wet hair looking like her so then it makes her sort of not that.  
They are dry now, pretty much.  
"I can drive you." He pipes up, sitting forward, "cos it's still raining."  
"Have you got a driving license?" She grins.  
He holds up a finger - Wait - and gets up, disappearing for a minute maybe out of the Room. He bloody does, She thinks. What an idiot. She smiles inwardly, so it's gonna be one of those he's an idiot type friendships or friendship with benefits or Whatever this'll turn out to be. It's not looking like a one night stand thus far. She thinks about him laying back on his bed, she's crude, Subtle but crude. Crude for someone who uses the word crude in this day and age.  
She starts thinking about where someone might focus their attention if uncomfortable, or scared (the girl with red hair in the film is having a messy caesarian section to remove a foreign body that is also her child), or disgusted, calmed (the rain is jagged, smoothing to fragile curves and then picking up pace again, lovers passionate), turned on, agitated, put out, left alone, isolated (she thinks of treading endless barren ground), isolated (she thinks of her mother saying no and how to her it meant You Are Not My Daughter), isolated (the rain singles out a person to keep in exclusion, a tiny inching worry of this will amount to nothing seems to persevere so that she's alone on an island, flooded, separate, not wanted, and the rain just)  
He comes back to the room.  
That was a lot of emotions for a short amount of time even for her.  
He is holding a slim navy wallet, he opens it and flashes her a card.  
"Is it fake?" She asks frankly.  
He stares at her face blank for a second. "Of course not!" He exclaims, a grin cracks on her face. He smiles too.  
"Are you licensed on the car?" She doesn't want to sound like she's interrogating him but she's saying it with laughter now and it's not interrogation more humiliation, waiting for him to let up some fault in the master plan.  
Hole in the dam.  
The global death toll has upped eight percent in the last two months.  
He shrugs. "I think?" He raises his eyebrows, "I've been driving it but I don't remember being licensed on it..."  
"Oh." She bites her lip, stopping more stupid giggles.  
Any humour on his face drops suddenly, sliding away like melted ice cream.  
What is it? She thinks.  
But it was a split second, he's grinning again now, he reaches out and brushes her bottom lip with his index finger. What was that for?  
He sees confusion in her eyes n eyebrows but the confusion is all inside her, what he's actually interpreting is excitement.  
Skin on skin.  
He's not very good looking.  
"You had a red patch." His voice is soft all of sudden.  
She says, "you have crazy eyes." And smiles like a cheeky thirteen year old boy. It should make it go but it doesn't he just can't shake the feeling of of of something, and it makes it worse when she smiles and she looks kind of ugly but kind of magnetic too.  
His eyes r the colour of grass reflecting the sun, she thinks. This is the moment where all quickens in a story and leads to some climax otherwise it falls away, it's How scenes work. You run with it, you are the moon and your little people in a box are the waves. She's done this over and over again in stories she's practically a character herself. You are the moon and the tides, you are the sea, you pull yourself and crash and pull and crash. She's had so many first kisses now, this is it, this is the real one. Not counting the other two or the other Four hundred on a page. You are the moon, Lunar, or god's the moon? Are you in control? If you're not the moon? Are you just raging waves... Puppets on a silly string. Now, this is it. The flotsam and shrapnel around everything in her life is ridiculous. She's a satellite or even a coral.  
"oh thanks." He says. (What does she even mean by 'crazy eyes'? Is he annoyed that she didn't suddenly offer to give him head? Of course not Christ. He's not that shallow.)  
She frowns to herself very briefly before raising both her eyebrows at his apparent annoyance, lips in a boyish pout, humiliating even if she thinks she's the lowest in the heap.  
"I like them." She re adjusts her seating position, going a little closer, curling up a little more. "Actually."  
He's confused, but it's funny. What just happened? Should he ask that?  
"When do you go to bed?" The girl asks.  
"Um..." He turns his body ninety degrees so that he's sitting facing the tv again. "Like any time I want. Ten or eleven usually... W.."  
"Dyou wanna watch another movie?" She has speckles of a smile at the corners of her mouth.  
He puts his head back again, "sure." He grins.  
She cocks her head to the side so that her crinkly hair just brushes his arm.  
_I like to be kissed on the mouth when I'm being fucked._  
Al Pacino is a legend.  
They aren't quite movie geeks, almost but they're both on the edge of everything so not quite.  
Cinemas close down;  
is this the end of the world dad?  
Not nearly.  
The news brings horror stories.  
The next three months bring three months, nothing more nothing less.  
The earth keeps spinning, heads keep spinning, the disco ball in the strip club ten minutes away keeps spinning, spinning.


	2. The beginning (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are introduced to Jan's idiot friends, his ma and da & the wonders of the everyday and such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is very stream of consciousness I've realised, in comparison to a lot of work, so it may all be a big ol blur which is totally cool, it's not really meant for deep reading. Just skimming, the occasional enjoyment of reading an expressive sentence :3 (or maybe it's just a pile ah shite) (either way if u do read I hope you derive some pleasure from it <3)

She's A Bit Weird. Jake says. Jake's an asshole.  
Friday grins, taking another hit on the blunt and blowing a smoke ring.  
"Yeah but he's our personal psycho so he would wouldn't he?" Friday pulls his head up to glance at Jan.  
They both have girls names.  
But Friday got less shit for his, maybe because he's never been quiet like Jan. Rian originally. Aodh Rian in the beginning but he asked his parents when five to call him Rian and then To call him Something else at eight. Rian got shortened to yan which he spelt jan and then people started calling him Jan like jam so that stuck, he cared less as he got older. He'd go back to Aodh now but Jan is probably easier, most people can say it almost right.  
"Fancying someone who's weird and being a psycho are completely different." Jan wonders why he's still expecting anything slightly coherent or sensible from either of them. Jake's bedroom must smell of weed all the time, he thinks. I wonder how his mum and sister feel about it, how long has it stunk of this?  
"But..." Jake hesitates, laughing. He leans back in his chair. "But if she's fuckable who cares?" He pauses again, his face twitching. He scratches his eye annoyingly slowly and points at Jan but it resembles more of a point at the wardrobe two feet to the left of Jan.   
"Wait you've got a girl?" Jake raises his eyebrows.  
Jan stares blankly at him. "No." He snorts.  
"Oohhhh." Jake nods slowly as if he suddenly understands everything.  
Right that's it, Jan thinks, they are both officially utterly past it, I'm out.  
But he doesn't move an inch until Friday announces that he's going to eat his own hand can they get kfc and Jan takes it as a perfect opportunity to escape without being alone.  
"I'll get it." He says. Friday sees apathy on his face, that's all he ever sees.  
Friday scrunches up his face and does what is probably nodding but looks more like him listening to fast paced music and dancing to it with his shoulders, in his own world, Jan imagines it there.  
He laughs out loud.  
"What?" Both Friday and Jake say at the same time, there are a few dotted clouds in the dull blue sky. They are both slurred, both a few paces behind Jan in his semi sobriety. He's still hungover and could be a little high from back smoke alone.  
Maybe he's not as on it as he thinks.  
He thinks about his new friend and the camping trip they're going on when it gets warmer again. There's plenty of time for things to change. What does he want to change though? Is there anything? Is it her? Or worse still him? Jake had a voucher eligible in the Chinese takeaway up the road so despite Friday's protests (I Need The Fried Chicken Man, Pleeeaaase Man I Need Those Juicy Thighs) Jan treads there now. Rhythms she's shown him kind of stick like chewing gum to the grey insides of his head.   
\-----  
Ur Eyes R Like... Idk Wht.. Lol i don't want to sound weird. She writes long messages but tries not to. It gets tedious after a while but on the other hand, what is there to do but read messages of a girl who might like you.   
Like what?? He replied.  
A few minutes. Is she painting rn? Is she to touching her body? Washing her face? He scrolled through little square after square on a screen. HOT BLONDE TAKING MY HUGE COCK. doesn't sound very nice, he thinks, he grunts, Carries on scrolling.  
Bzz bzz.   
Haha. like, dull lime. there's nothin romantic 2 compare them to. Not that it's gotta be romantic, just didn't wanna b mean. He can't hear her voice through these messages.  
He raises his eyebrows, smirking a lazy smirk.  
ok so I guess it wasn't meant to be positive, just poetic. Like u. Not positive, poetic - he presses send.  
Sometimes she doesn't reply in hours or a couple of days. he wonders if that's the case this time.  
There's nothing fulfilling on here, he thinks. threesome? Two guys one girl... Threesome? three guys? Part of him feels a bit sick thinking about wanking over A gay threesome and another part is equally as intrigued as horrified. He closes the tab, contemplating whether to save this for later or not.  
he remembers a time when this seemed pointless. It still does in an emotional sense but there are powers of his body that he can't ignore. He sighs, leaning back.  
Bzz bzz.   
He'd just undone his flies.  
Bzz bzz  
Bzz bzz  
Three messages from her? Surely they wouldn't all vibrate. He shrugs, running a hand through his dark hair and picking up his phone in his left hand. He's ambidextrous, can use both hands equally well. His right is perhaps more fluent with writing but his left doesn't tire so easily.  
There's a message from Frankie asking him to help out with a party he's holding. Typical frank.  
And two from the girl.  
No you kno this already I think u have rly nice eyes. the first message reads, he smiles it doesn't make him feel good but he likes it nevertheless.  
poetic, hope that's a good thing. I didnt think it was especially poetic but i can write poetry abt yr eyes if ya want me to  
She is weird she's well weird. But It doesn't seem to take anything away, just add. She's a great person to get caught up in if you can bear with it.  
is it a fair deal that he can come on her (in her?) if she gets to stare into his eyes?  
That was too much. He banishes the thought. He's tempted to reopen the tab to distract himself but he doesn't, pride in self control despite his aching aching need to -   
Yeah.  
She's stretching on her bedroom floor.  
Bzz bzz bzzz bzz  
Alright you write poetry about my eyes (anything else, just ask) and I'll write a play about you. im sure mine'll be dire but I can try. gotta sleep now goodnight girl  
she likes him a lot oddly. she feels warm inside  
\-----  
He's daydreaming at the Chinese.  
there are dedicated teams eradicating the spread of the virus, it is now only a small risk that the Genova Infection will become a global epidemic  
Does anyone want to hear this? Jan thinks that he is thinking it but realises he's said it aloud, there's a tv in the top right corner of the room speaking tinny news. Its dusty outdated bulk sits twenty four seven in this shop, watching sad lives leak in n out. What A Life. Jan thinks.  
The food has been made, he thanks the woman at the counter, taking the white plastic bag filled with warm smells. He stops in at a corner shop to buy chocolate and Chocolate cake and cherry cola, it's the only kind of cola he likes.  
He always scuffs his shoes on the pavement, kicking into it. He's going to borrow Jake's little white bong, he's going to get high with her, he starts planning it all out in his head. It'll be a great evening.  
Creaky people walk past. Early morning attention, they wake up and sleep again. He gets that coffee rush even when he doesn't drink coffee in the morning, not especially a morning person so his brain keeps trying to defibrillate his conscience. He sees all the details. But that's completely faded by this time.  
It's seven pm maybe. He's not thinking straight.   
When Jan opens Jake's bedroom door he hears another voice.   
Ben! A friend who isn't high. Yet.  
"Rian!" Ben exclaims, he's one of the only people who calls him that but they were friends in primary school before re meeting in college and Ben seems to have an especially recollective memory.  
Trees shake in the wind, it's getting dark. A breeze has picked up.  
"Hey man." Jan sets the food down on the bed, "Let's eat."  
Four boys sitting in a bedroom that really needs a window open eating Chinese through the fumes.  
Jan knows Ben wants him to ask about his girlfriend so he says: "how's ya girl doing Ben?"  
And Ben excitedly starts about her, she has long light brown hair and wears Modest make up and is an art student she draws a lot of cartoons and flowers.  
Jan zones out, he's eating sweet and sour pork with his fingers it's gross on the one hand but he waited till the others had finished before really beginning to eat and by then it was dark so he doesn't have to worry about grossness in the lack of light.  
There's a few chips left and some vegetables that Jake didn't eat, it tastes surprisingly good. He's a bit used to cereal and English breakfast at this point, corn on the cob and reduced tesco sandwiches, the occasional salad and something interesting if she cooks when they meet. Flavour is kind of... Unchanging.  
He swallows, opening his eyes, waking; his throat aches a little. Why is there so much smoke in here?  
Why did I fall asleep?  
He has an uncomfortable pain in his leg and is generally a bit dazed and confused and there are strings of a dream coming back to him.   
It was really real.  
He doesn't like thinking about dreams. He squeezes his eyes closed and then opens them, smells the smell of weed and smoke and four boys who've passed out. Today's an exception, no one usually gets this high.  
Jan gets up, staggers to where Jake's bed cover has lit on fire.   
"Jesus Fuck..." Jan says, where's Ben? Both Jake and Friday are fully gone.   
Jan's brow is very heavily furrowed, his head is mushy and he feels like someone's watching him. He coughs and rolls Jake over, stamping on the fire. It's not big but it's producing a lot of smoke, he leaves it to open a window, putting his weight against the frames as they crack open. Jake Must Never Open These, Jan thinks, coughing again. He Must Be Stoned Like... All The Time. Jan laughs but is a bit stressed and not enjoying this fuzzy second hand High. He attempts putting out the fire again and is successful, falling back against Jake's computer table, elbows on knees, lungs heaving a little.  
He is hungry still, getting up and taking the chocolate with him, he leaves a note for the guys explaining the fire and that he's gone home. They'll probably laugh really hard about it as he chews chocolate and contemplates death and its portrayal in film. Cld he text her about that? Is it a bit late?  
He doesn't want to text her, she'll just go on about ideas of hers. Jan doesn't even like them that much  
(he thinks)  
someone far away might, so I don't need to. 

It's early in the morning and Jan hasn't slept he feels rather unwell. He's thinking about how he doesn't really want to hang out with the guys any longer, he doesn't feel much for them, or anyone.  
He looks in the mirror at his cold eyes. It was still warm for Autumn , for a while, and then it dropped. He shivers, thinks about putting the heating on. He can't find his contact lenses he doesn't need them anymore but still wears them sometimes, it takes a fuzz off of the edge of pictures.  
When he leaves his room to get breakfast mum is sitting on the bottom step of the stairs crying again. She used to when he was little, she'd just start and then she didn't seem to stop. But then the hole the accident ripped in her life seemed to be filled with other things so she didn't cry so much, it slowed to a stop... And now those other things have worn away; her tears started flowing again, the volcano inside active once more. Dad seems to have gotten over it in a not-very-real way though and can't go back so is ignoring her sloppy mess in the morning time. Morning sickness, morning alert through Jan's eyes.  
He checks his phone and then stretches his back, trudging slowly down the stairs. He lays a hand on his mother's back when he gets to the bottom, it feels wrong to step over her and carry on as if she isn't there even though dad seems convinced that's the right way to go about it.   
She's wearing a dark blue dressing gown, she wipes her eyes.  
"Have you got school today?" She asks, choking a little on each word.  
Jan looks at his mother on the bottom step. "Yeah." He doesn't believe she had the strength to birth him all those years ago.  
She smiles in that way that mothers do when they are sad and happy. She looks at her son.  
"Are you growing... Facial hair?" She asks hesitantly, resting her eyes on his new-seeming face (when did he get so.... Old?), "well obviously you are..." She laughs at herself, wiping some tears with her index finger, "but are you... Growing a beard?" She covers her mouth.  
He does a delayed grin, realising what she means. "No I'm not I just haven't shaved; I'm just lazy." he says. He smiles at her loving self, she's still a mother, if a little havoc-wreaked.  
"Oh that's good..." But she doesn't quite finish her sentence because she's started crying again. She laughs once more. "You're not going for a beard yet that's good..." She stands, "you wouldn't mind giving me a hug would you...? Andrew, or dad's been uh not doing that recently."  
I've Seen Jan mutters in his head but he doesn't say it aloud only opens his arms in a casual teenage gesture like, ok mum, sure.   
He's still her son.  
He doesn't shower, spraying copious amounts of deodorant on instead (he coughs in a cloud of Lynx Apollo, waving his arms around before escaping the room for oxygen). His dad walks out of the study.  
"Morning aodh." His dad says, voice deep. Andrew's voice isn't as strong in its Irish twang as it used to be, he should sound softer than he used to, but he never sounded harsh (but he never sounded soft either), Jan isn't so sure of his father these days.  
"Good morning da." Jan has his brow furrowed, he covers his bare chest with his arms.  
"Are you trying to suffocate yourself again? With that... Whatever it is?" Andrew pours the now cold remains of a mug of coffee down his throat.  
It's not pleasant.  
Jan snorts, "ay."  
"Whatcha..." Andrew pokes his sons side, "gaining weight?"  
Jan shrugs. "Yeah I thought it was muscle but..." He grins, but inside he's a little let down.  
His dad laughs. "I see it, getting buff. Good for you." His smile lingers for a short while and then drops off of his face like it was sloppy porridge thrown at him in a food fight. He's serious again, it's gone. He nods toward Jan. "You look worried. Don't be worried son, you might not be the... How dyou say it? You know, Fittest of the lads but you're fine, you've got brains, you'll do well if ya focus." Andrew has a ginger beard, he says, "ay?"  
And Jan says. "Ay."   
His father walks down the stairs and he's pretty sure his mother isn't sitting at the bottom but if she is he'll step over her and say good morning at eleven fifty nine when she brings him more coffee to go cold.  
It's October and Jan's wearing black trousers and a short sleeved stripy t-shirt. He was going to wear Chelsea boots but everyone at school calls him gay when he wears them. He has these sort of high tops on instead, they're the only vaguely nice shoes he has beside the Chelsea boots and some walking ones. His dad bought them for him so that they could hike in Wales but they haven't.  
It's cold for October, the Indian summer has become regular of the last few years but this is autumn as it should be, like it was when Jan was a boy. A coldness whispering in the air. He's walking, recoiling into his hoodie.  
His friend spots him but she says nothing, He Looks Really Funny she thinks.  
But she says nothing.  
Jan is wondering when dad got so shallow. His father used to be a novel writer but he writes columns for the guardian now. He always seemed quite creative and deep and intriguing but that was before, maybe he's always been like this just now Jan's sensitive to it.  
He rubs his eyes with two fingers, Maths today and then film studies and then drama later on.  
The friend watches him, she thinks Man He Walks So Weirdly but it makes her feel warm, she smiles when she thinks Ya We're Friends; but frowns when she realises that maybe they'll never be more and someone else will capture his heart, fish him out of the ocean. She looks away.  
In maths Jan can't concentrate. This isn't surprising in comparison with how he's been the rest of the week, it's Wednesday morning and it doesn't feel very substantial. That morning alert isn't working today, the girl he liked in year 10 sits behind him texting her friends.  
He hasn't like liked someone for a long time now.  
He's become more... Anti social. These thoughts in which no one means anything are striking seeming. They are starker now, outlined in black pen.  
The teacher asks Jack to answer a question.  
It takes a good few tens of seconds for Jan to realise the man meant him, it's a supply. "Um... Me?" He asks.  
The teacher nods.  
The teacher is wearing an orange cardigan over a blue pinstriped shirt, he has a dark tie and Jan can't tell if it's green or red, and the man's trousers are too long - despite him being rather tall. They look weird against his shoes; two tones of black. Jan frowns at the shoes.  
This will do much to fuel his reputation as a drug addict.  
"Jack?" The teacher cocks his head.  
Jan looks at the man's bearded face, he looks hagged almost, tired and with a way of speaking that seems more jovial than his almost lip-less mouth could handle. Mind his voice isn't jovial at all, his mouth just looks about as nondescript and unmoving as a dead person's.  
He's sort of staring.  
"Are you talking to me?" If Jan's voice wasn't so drowsy sounding and with an awkward very slight Irish hint to it he would sound with attitude.   
But he just sounds a bit slow.  
(That's what he thinks, in the background)   
He seems to have got more tired as he's woken up.  
"Yes. Catch up lad." The man furrows his brow.  
"What's your name?" Jan asks, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth a little. And then he nearly laughs because it's such a weird question to ask but he would genuinely like to know.  
"That doesn't matter right now." The man says.  
Then someone at the back goes It's On The Board You Idiot.  
Mr Chavinsky.  
"Ooh. Mr Chav. Right. My name's uh... Jan, not Jack..." Jan says.  
The teacher nods, looks painfully bored already by Jan's not on it ness.  
"Well I'm glad we got that sorted out, the answer?" Mr Chav stares at Jan lazily, Jan narrows his eyes. "Or are you... Too high to, you know, figure it out. I have to be honest I expected better from you students."  
Quite a few people laugh and five or six go Oooo, the same guy who said It's On The Board You Idiot goes You've Been Owned Mann An By A Supply As Well.  
The teacher likes the feeling of amusing the kids.  
"You're right sir." Jan doesn't even bother to protest, "I wasn't listening."  
The teacher shakes his head, muttering, What a waste of time.  
Jan puts his head on the desk.  
Jan notices his friend walking on the other side of the street. At first he doesn't care and then looks at her trundling in her unusual way, hair bouncing, and he feels good. He shakes his head, looking ahead once more. And then back again to see how she's doing, met any friends yet? Got out her phone? Is she looking at me? And indeed she is.  
She presses her lips into a line, it's like that awkwardly apologetic look, and he waves.  
She shakes her head slowly, grinning (what's that about?).  
"Good morning." Jan shouts. Is that a really lame thing to shout?  
She gives him a thumbs up, then taps her watch.  
I'm late, she's saying, but he doesn't get that.  
And then feels a bit weird when she speeds off just like that.  
At the end of the lesson Mr Chav asks Jan to stay behind. Is he really an A level teacher? He seems to be combining methods of a university professor with a year 8 teacher, it's a bit weird.  
Mr Chav appears to wait for a bit too long before he speaks, as if what he says is both gravely important and thoroughly well thought through. But it never seems as if what he says is either that important or well thought through.  
"Are you not enjoying maths Jan?" The teacher asks.  
Jan laughs, but it's not a proper laugh. "Yeah." He looks at his shoes, "that's one way of putting it."  
"You don't want to fail though do you?" The teacher leans back on the desk, this classroom is quite old fashioned in its layout - teacher at the front with individual desks in rows. Mr Chav takes a different approach. "What university are you applying to?"  
"Um." Jan frowns, he hasn't really thought about it too much - he should have. "I'm not entirely sure." Come on man get your head together you don't want to come across as a total fool. "Cambridge, I'd like to go to Cambridge maybe. Or York. Or goldsmiths, I think goldsmiths. But I've looked at some others too." Jan nods.  
"Cambridge eh? Well you're certainly going to be wanting good results then, you must be expecting them."  
Mr Chav is a bit patronising.  
Jan doesn't want to be here.  
"Um, yeah. I'm not expecting much. I can only try. I'm not high, you know, and I wasn't before either."  
Mr Chav leans in, nodding, "I know I know..." Yeah,  
He seems really convinced.  
"Just from what I've seen of you, you're a smart guy. You just need to believe in yourself, try a little harder. Don't slack on that brain of yours."  
Jan frowns again, or maybe he's been frowning this whole time he just frowns a little harder.  
"Um... Yeah. Thanks." Jan nods his head, he looks at the teacher's ginger beard.  
I wonder whether I could grow a beard like that, Jan thinks, I bet I'd be taken more seriously.  
"Good man." The teacher claps him on the shoulder like they're friends.  
It's a weird interaction.  
Out of class time Mr Chav seems quite normal.  
Jan smiles briefly, away from his frown. He's already thinking about other things (about the decline of the earth and about the fact that he is cold and the fact that he's not as nice as he wants to think he is and disturbing thoughts of his mother crying as she lies on the floor)  
"And drugs aren't funny! We all have to experiment, I understand but it can... Easily be more than experimentation. and it's not appropriate at school."  
Jan doesn't realise what the man's said before he's out of the classroom and he thinks about sticking his head back through the door to say I'm Not On Drugs but he can't be bothered.  
Let them think what they want.  
He has a study of horror films to do, it's a fun assignment - the two teachers that do the theory part of the technical theatre and film studies course are conflicting though. They say stuff that goes against each other. He's not sure if he really likes either of them. And the drama teacher isn't a huge fan of him or his work.  
It's the English teacher who's recently gone on maternity leave who Jan was encouraged by; and genuinely too. It wasn't just half assed, she seemed to mean all the motivational things she said - like an actual teacher you know.  
Jan bumps into this guy called Mohammed who everyone bullies, at first he was a bully, and Jan's friend at the time (Will) was both incredibly defensive of Jan against Mo but also racist, it was messy, Jan tried to avoid their friendship and told Mohammed he wasn't helpful to anyone and over the past two years that seems to have manifested in actuality but it's not fair.  
Jan knows it's not fair but he has no remorse.  
He's tired.  
Mo's tired too.  
"Move man." Mohammed says.  
"I was moving." Jan shrugs. "Lighten up. You look so... Down all the time. It's not that bad."  
Something softens in this near stranger's eyes, and then he speaks. "Nah you don't know me." He says, "I'll keep how I am. Thanks." And pushes past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof. catch me on tumblr if You Eva wanna chat - I should have the first chapter of my Borderlands fic up tomorrow ! yay ! thx again for reading those who do (if you have any questions let me know in the comments !! I'm posting a more detailed story blurb thing as well if anyone is intrigued as to what this bunch of crap is actually about)

**Author's Note:**

> OOF thank you so much if you got this far, let me know if you have any requests/feedback/questions or hit me up on my tumblr (terraperforming) for chats ! Hope you're all having a lovely day ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ"


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